Just over four years ago, I wrote about
poppies and commemoration. Shortly after, I reflected again on the link between flowers and remembering. As glorious, riotous sight of these poppies caught my eye earlier, I thought back to those posts. How much has changed since then! The nearby roadside memorial has shrunk and faded, occasionally bolstered on what must be poignant anniversaries for the family. The nation’s collective memory has shifted from the little boats of Dunkerque to the trenches of World War One, although right now the seventieth anniversary of D-Day is pressing on many minds. The great uncle that I talked about four years ago was on those beaches too. I’ve thought of him a lot lately after a work trip took me to an area of the Netherlands he had spent time in during the war. So many layers of memories, overlapping, interlocking, interconnecting. Young men today; young men back then. Age, ageing, lost youth. Families, my own and others. Life. Death. Remembering.

Today adds another layer. 05/06/2014 – I am going to the funeral of a very dear older lady who I have known from being the smallest child. Her name was June. She loved flowers. It all comes together even as the world’s move apart.

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